


checkmate

by side_stickie_note (lost_stickie_note)



Series: snapshots [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Betrayal, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, assassin!Wonwoo, prince!junhui
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26562391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_stickie_note/pseuds/side_stickie_note
Summary: Wonwoo has one last move to play.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Series: snapshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913488
Comments: 30
Kudos: 84
Collections: Challenge 2: Betrayal





	checkmate

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh, not 100% satisfied with this one since I didn't really have time to read it over, edit it, and tighten up the story a bit. But I really wanted to push out this plot even if it seemed bare bones. I really could have used another 2k words, haha. [blows kisses] Enjoy!

Wonwoo draws his cloak tighter around him, pulling the hood over his head, hurrying along the cobblestone alley. Right, left, and then another left. The nondescript wooden door is unmarked, easily missed. Two long knocks, then three in quick succession before he hears the bolt draw back slowly.

The man behind the counter gives a grunt of acknowledgment. “Pickup?”

He nods and waits as the man disappears, returning quickly with an unassuming package, wrapped in plain brown paper, tied together with twine. There are only two vials, a murky scarlet and a light almost transparent sea turquoise.

Perfect.

He hasn’t been gone long, but there is a flurry of activity in the castle when he returns, and Wonwoo makes his way directly to Junhui’s chambers, ignoring the commotion. The prince is struggling to get dressed for the occasion, and Junhui breathes a sigh of relief as Wonwoo comes forward to help, tying up the ends.

“Thank you, Wonwoo.” He ignores the ache as Junhui buries himself in his chest, his fingers running through the prince’s hair by habit. The pang of regret runs through him, knowing what he must do.

His duty, the only reason he had come to reside in Junhui’s court in the first place.

“What would I do without you?” Junhui stares up at him, small and tender, and this close, Wonwoo can see the prince’s eyelashes brush softly against his cheeks, can see the slight parting of Junhui’s lips, curved into a pout, impishly rising up to meet him, and Wonwoo lets himself melt into the kiss though he shouldn’t.

For tonight, he must kill the prince.

When he had first arrived at Junhui’s court, his heart had been treacherous, brimming with resentment. But it is not Junhui’s fault that his land is prosperous, thriving under a gentle king, while Wonwoo’s home is in the grasp of a tyrant. A tyrant that Junhui is to be wed to, a union between two kingdoms who want to keep an uneasy peace.

It had been Wonwoo who suggested it first as third-in-command of the rebel faction, the plan to infiltrate the opposing prince’s court in order to remove him, the spark to start the revolution to overthrow their own current regime. A tricky, risky plan—if only because Wonwoo doesn’t expect Junhui to fall in love with him—

“How do I look?”

“Ethereal.”

Wonwoo presses a kiss to Junhui’s cheek, the prince blushing in kind before his face twists into a scowl. “I wish tonight didn’t have to happen.” The prince gives him a pout. “I don’t want to be wed to him. And I hate banquets.”

“Even if it means protecting your country from possible ruin?”

He’s willing to give everything for his. Even if it means his life. (Even if it means Junhui’s life. But Wonwoo doesn’t want to dwell on that.)

Junhui’s face is riddled with uncertainty, a murmured response. “I’ve heard rumors.” The prince gives him a sidelong glance. “Is he as bad as they say?”

Wonwoo wishes he doesn’t have to lie.

“No.” He reassures the prince, ruffling Junhui’s hair. “You’ll be well taken care of.”

The lump in his throat grows as the prince intertwines their fingers. “You’ll join me?”

Junhui looks hopeful. It’s not uncommon for members of the royal guard to move courts with their lieges once they marry, and the next lie slips out of his mouth easily.

“Of course.”

The relief breaks across Junhui’s face.

Wonwoo spends the entirety of the night sticking to the walls, keeping his ornate ceremonial mask up to his face, lest he be recognized. He had never been the face of the rebellion, that had fallen solely on Mingyu’s shoulders, but one can never be too careful.

Junhui looks regal on the raised dais, boredom in the curve of his lip, glancing at him periodically. There’s a dance, and Wonwoo watches as Junhui stiffens as they spin around in circles. And Junhui throws him a pleading look, over the shoulder of his husband-to-be.

Almost time.

Wonwoo slips away to the outer hall, uncorking the turquoise vial, downing the antidote in one gulp. The scarlet is thick, viscous, and Wonwoo takes care for it not to stain anywhere else other than his lips.

Junhui is waiting for him when he enters the prince’s chambers and pulls him on to the bed before Wonwoo can even say a word, giggling and breathless underneath him. “Junhui, you should return to the ballroom.”

“I told them I wasn’t feeling well, and that I wanted to lie down for a moment.” Junhui stares at him earnestly. “Tonight is the last night we can be together. I want to cherish the time we have left.”

Junhui captures his lips in a heady kiss, and Wonwoo tastes only bitterness, though the poison is sweet. Wonwoo kisses the prince until they’re both dizzy, and he barely registers when Junhui coughs, not until Junhui is pushing him away, hand to his mouth.

There’s blood, cherry red against Junhui’s fingertips.

To Wonwoo’s surprise, Junhui doesn’t look shocked, only sad.

“I was wondering if you’d go through with it.”

The confession is like a punch to the gut. “How did you know?”

“Minghao, the apothecary. He’s a childhood friend.”

Wonwoo’s chest seizes up as Junhui coughs again, more red staining his lips. “Don’t cry, Wonwoo.” And he feels the back of Junhui’s hand, clumsily wiping against his cheeks.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Wonwoo whispers, voice choked with tears, pressing his forehead against Junhui’s.

“Because I love you.” A pause, Junhui lying down, closing his eyes. “And because if the tyrant slips poison into my drink at our wedding banquet, he shall never make it out of the country.”

—or expect himself to fall in love with Junhui.

“I’ll return, Junhui. I can fetch the royal physician. Perhaps he can concoct an antidote quickly.” Panicked, Wonwoo moves to leave, but Junhui’s grip around his wrist stops him.

“No, stay.”

“Tell me about home, Wonwoo.”

**Author's Note:**

> ⚔️👑
> 
> Twitter: [@sidestickienote](https://twitter.com/sidestickienote)  
> CuriousCat: [@sidestickienote](https://curiouscat.qa/sidestickienote)


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